


Droning

by 1545011



Category: Original - Fandom
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Choking, Gay, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Pee, Piss, Sadism, Strangulation, Urine, cum, stangle, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1545011/pseuds/1545011
Summary: im uploading this from the parking lot of albertsonswork in progress, i am uploading this as is just for right now. i will complete it as soon as i canedit - 4/4/2019finished it! idk if i like this one as much or not :D let me know what you think and expect more soon





	Droning

Was it really different after this? It didn’t feel like it mattered.  
He mattered, of course. I am still here, and he is still mine, and I am still with him. But, what he had said, about it being different. Why? How was it different ‘this time’?  
Mikael didn’t linger on that for too long. As a human, what Larssen had said didn’t truly affect him all that much. He sipped away on his coffee comfortably.  
There was no more writing for today, so what would that entail?  
The following day after their encounter, the man had visually dark dreams. Murky and warm like bathwater, and felt just as refreshing.  
Cleaning up after Larssen and his own expulsions, he had crawled back into bed in search of rest. He couldn’t tell if they were actual dreams, if he was being jostled around psychically, or if that was just old-fashioned sleep. This seemed distinct from sleep absent of dreams, Mikael had reasoned with himself. In reality, it could have been very likely he was staring at the insides of his eyelids for hours on end, lovingly relaxed instead of a low budget Larssen encounter that his mind was unwilling to render.  
That was his personal theory. Because the last few encounters were particularly intense, his mind, or maybe even Larssen had needed time in order to recover.  
Further - Mikael liked to think deviously like this when he was alone - maybe Larssen was conserving and storing his sperm for another excessive encounter, Mikael thought. ‘All for me.’ He giggled to himself. The brown haired man felt himself begin to stiffen again.  
What had happened next was that naturally, Mikael began to think of his music once more. Yesterday had been a scheduled off day - rare for someone akin to Mikaels creative work ethic. Today there was interference, and how lucky at that! The man found himself still lingering in his erotic thoughts, nearly consumed.  
The feeling was the same as a student becoming excited at extending his sick days from school.  
For some odd reason or another, the thought that Larssen could perhaps manipulate reality in order to benefit Mikael had not ever crossed his mind.  
Today, Mikael had the task upon him to write lyrics. Hefting his thesaurus in hand, his fingers drifted over each familiar line.  
He wrote about a variety of subjects, many of them were deeply rooted in the atmosphere of his genre, or to elicit an emotional response.  
Depictions of strangulation or drowning were a theme he found himself lingering on often.  
This was another thing that Mikael had not thought inwardly about - thinking his fascination purely as an observer did not signify anything within himself.  
The tip of his stole-from-the-hotel blue ink ballpoint pen scratched messily against the orderly white page as he wrote passage following passage. He licked his lips, nodding his head and performing other small habitual actions during his concentration.  
Every once in a while, he smoothed out the page. Smiling, he could feel the deep ridges in the paper where initially there was only a white flatness. Fruits of his labor.  
‘Coagulation begins to stain within,  
Aries finds complete satisfaction around your neck,  
Delirious fluids cycle to and fro in front of you,  
All has been abandoned,  
Each segment obtained casually from a checklist,  
Sick Zodiac scavenger,  
Your body is forfeit,  
From the start an organic pawn…’  
Mikael found himself once more rubbing his useless cock in a way that was almost deliberate. Imagining his protagonist meeting his death so violently yet so intimately, something about that appealed to him a way he was semi-conscious about.  
‘I am just excited from yesterday…’ He would reason with himself.  
However, he had already let the terrible pen fall from his hand.  
Larssen had been watching carefully for about an hour. The progression of Mikael writing to Mikael stroking himself off was cute to see.  
Permeating into Mikael’s kitchen, the dark haired man parted the air and stood behind him.

For the last few passages, following Mikael’s hand movements he had been able to make out what he was writing. But now that he was near, he could make out prior writings from his beloved scattered about on the table before him like a disheveled essay in the works.  
It was different now.  
“You write a lot about asphyxiation.” Larssen commented, the deep voice breaking through the sounds of Mikael’s subdued droning rubs.  
He had to have jumped a little bit. The appearance was completely unexpected.  
Caught red handed, he sheepishly retrieved his hand from under the table to join it with his other one in rubbing his neck nervously as he leaned back to get a look at Larssen behind him.  
“I just kinda hint at it. I don’t exactly mean for it to be concrete, anyway.”  
“Can you explain?”  
“It doesn’t mean anything.”  
“It always means something, it never doesn’t mean anything, you know.”  
That stuck with him. It was so typical for Mikael, and other humans, to accept the former thought. Often he could be on the cusp of understanding, but was unable to investigate further.  
Knowing this, Larssen instead met Mikael’s hands with his own.  
His black eyes scoured his beloved’s body, lingering on the delicate waves of his soft almost-blonde hair. He needed to shower more. Even his thick brows which dared to meet in the middle looked disheveled and hardly-kempt. Drinking in the sights of Mikael, Larssen’s eyes roved further to his straining tent atop his crotch.  
Need he even comment? It was perhaps very evident to Mikael that his obliviousness was outstanding.  
He dared rest his hands cupped around the base of the man’s neck.  
Within an instant, his face contorted with pleasure in response. Would he dare? What would it be like. Beetroot red, Mikael shifted pathetically in his chair.  
“But,” He had barely managed to choke out. His voice had turned feeble, rasping. The masochism was ever so obvious.  
Likewise, Larssen’s sadism was perhaps plain to see. Tightening his grip on the stupid male’s neck came more than naturally to him.  
“I’m a little scared...” He whimpered, his precum staining the front of his pants. Each second, his hips shifting a new direction and back again as they searched for stimulation.  
Larssen could only sensually move his hands across the warm surface of the man’s skin, wringing him.  
Was it more of a massage or a teasing choke? It felt good, but Mikael could feel the approaching pressure. It felt so good, but it almost hurt. He threw his chest forward, struggling to take in a deep breath.  
To be in the arms of Larssen, another man who could very well take him if he continued on how he fantasized…  
Coughing, groaning, Mikael’s hands clamored at Larssen’s wrists, searching for something of his to hold onto while he was feeling the blood rush in his face. His lips felt warm, his tongue felt like it had no place in his mouth.  
To him, it was like he was in the throes of being fucked.  
But, it was different.  
Maybe, the content of his lyrics were a subconscious fantasy.  
It felt so sensual and further intimate. Despite this, Mikael could still not see the man forcing the breath from him in his position in the chair.  
Clumsily, his feet kicked in his struggle. Losing coordination, his substandard penis began to leak freely it’s seed. The white fluid flowed from him, it stained through his layers. It ached and throbbed weakly, quickly becoming flaccid and exhausted from it’s weak expulsion. A cooling mess between his splayed legs while the man behind him wrung his neck.  
His mouth curled into an O-shape while he coughed and sputtered each second, his faux struggle was nearing its pinnacle.

It was easily fun for Larssen to manipulate Mikael like this. With each tighter grip, he held it steady against his flushing skin. 

Mikael urinated fearfully, feeling his coordination and own grip on Larssen’s wrists weaken. He saw his vision darken, a growing vignette begin to appear. He felt burning and cold altogether.  
The urine quickly and noisily spread on his clothes, dribbling down the legs of the chair and pooling on the floor. His clothes clung to him now, his pathetic cock’s outline against his skinny thighs very inherent beyond the clinging denim.  
His hands beat beggingly against Larssen, eyes rolling away.  
Finally, the raw and purplish skin of Mikael’s throat was revealed while Larssen’s hands withdrew.  
Gasping, blinking, Mikael was sitting still in his own mess.  
His fingers gripped the long sleeves of Larssen as they were unwilling to let go.  
Larssen read his thoughts.  
“That was good? You don’t want me to stop?”  
He smiled.  
Mikael’s display of masochism was adorable. His writhing body beneath him, the raw love. A riot in his body. Entirely in sensual submission, yearning for more of what would leave marks upon him.  
The man did enjoy it, if he had any further articulation, or a less careful boyfriend, he would have been strangled further at this request.  
“Because, you are hungry.” Larssen had turned to leave, but not before spending fifteen or twenty minutes more with Mikael as he stroked his hair, his moustache, and played witness to his recovering yet still heaving chest. Whispering all of the ‘I love you’s he knew Mikael could appetize.  
Kissing his forehead, his own long blackish strands brushing against his hot-to-the-touch skin, Larssen left Mikael for the day.  
Another day spent fucking, and not writing more. However, how could he mind?  
Larssen left Mikael sitting in his humiliating elixir, to be found by his colleagues who looked upon him in shock and disgust. He smelled strongly of sperm and piss, still by the next morning. It was beyond humiliating. But, that was perhaps exactly what Larssen had wanted for Mikael. If his eyes weren’t half glazed and muscles weak, he would have mercilessly stroked his dick later to the thoughts of being found in this condition. The fantastic humiliation.  
A delightful submissive, an innocuous masochist. ‘Because, you are hungry.’ He had said, and then left.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback appreciated


End file.
